Bat Blurbs
by TekeoMiona
Summary: I think an idea, I throw it on paper, and it ends up here. Mostly silly, random, and possibly confusing. Will take suggestions. (takes place mostly in The Batman, with Dick as Robin; I don't know the other Robins, so no, I won't write them)
1. A Thanksgiving Catastrophe

**OMCHEESE TREMORS GIRL MADE A BATMAN! Hush. I love these idiots. Sassy Alfred gives me life. Enjoy the small blurb, and I may make more.**

**I thought this up last night as I was tryin' to fall asleep (my mind overwhelmed with all the crap going on in the world and especially Ferguson, I mean really). It amused me, so I decided to write it down today (with some changes, but shh, you don't know that).**

**Also, I'm not really all that into Thanksgiving (I've had conflicted feelings about it since I was a kid, ever since I learned about what happened to the natives. like, I get why it started, but why keep doing it? I don't get it). But it's still fun to write about the weirdness that happens. Or can happen. Or that we quill-brandishing creepers make happen.**

***Edit* Oh, and if you Jangus is readin' this: I know, I know. I'm workin' on it. El Blanco ate my brain, what can ya do?**

**EDIT EDIT: This was a separate story, but then I changed it to Bat Blurbs since there is more, so yeah. All that juicy details is in the next chapter, 'cause I-...just, I, never mind, just read.**

***DISCLAIMER* I do not own the show The Batman or its characters. They are the property of DC. I make no profit from this writing.**

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_**Bruce returns home to murder and mayhem. No humans were harmed in the making of this story (also, do not ask me who Joey is, I don't know).**_

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**A Thanksgiving Catastrophe**

It was a quiet day at the Wayne Manor. Dick was home from school for Thanksgiving and helping Alfred prepare their feast. Bruce had gone to pick up his old friend, Joey, from the airport, who he hadn't seen in several years. He was looking forward to catching up.

In the kitchen, Dick and Alfred were nearing the end of their preparation. They had nearly every traditional Thanksgiving food there was; turkey, cranberry sauce, mashed potatoes, pumpkin pie, stuffing, green bean casserole, corn on the cob, candied yams.

Alfred was currently putting the final touches on the turkey while Dick worked on the potatoes. Too short to properly reach from the floor, he was kneeling on the edge of the island, struggling with the mixer. Grunting in frustration, he gripped the handle with both hands, plopped the beaters into the potatoes, and used both his thumbs to wrestle the switch over. Alfred cast a glance at him.

"Is that thing stuck again?"

"Yes," Dick hissed, his teeth gritted with exertion. "It won't-!"

The switch finally moved, shooting up to the highest speed. The bowl exploded and Dick fell back off the island with a scream.

The cry echoed through the house, greeting Bruce's ears as he stepped inside. He froze for a second, exchanging a puzzled and worried glance with his friend. Alfred's horrified shout followed, along with the sound of crashing and banging. Bruce and Joe raced towards the kitchen, Bruce running through a list of villains who could've figured out where he lived.

Silence fell just moments before he reached the kitchen door. He skidded to a stop, Joey nearly colliding with his back. They both stared at the wrecked room with wide eyes.

Potato chunks, cranberry sauce, green beans, and what Bruce hoped was gravy covered the walls, counters, cabinets, ceiling, and the two frozen figures. Most of the food had been knocked off, the pumpkin pie just barely clinging to the edge of the island. Dick was knelt beneath it among fallen bowls of food, clutching the mixer tightly, as if he was afraid it would run. Alfred stood on the other side, holding the plug in his hand and looking frazzled.

Bruce looked slowly between them, unable to find the words to ask what on earth had happened. After several tense moments, Alfred cleared his throat, drawing himself up and trying to regain his usual calm demeanor.

"It would seem we are in need of another mixer, sir," he said. The moment of quiet was broken by the pie falling and landing squarely on Dick's head, who still crouched frozen on the floor. Alfred stared at the empty spot the pie had been before looking back at Bruce. "And…perhaps we could eat out tonight?"

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**Lemme know how ya like it! And shout out if you would like me to dabble more into this fandom.**


	2. The Cigarette Pack

**I feel my writing here SUCKS, but I wasn't really trying to be good or anything, just randomly writing. I need to empty my backed-up brain on things not worm related.**

**Anywho, I stole this from- well, okay, I didn't steal THIS, I stole a prompt idea involving M&amp;M's were cigs should be. And THIS happened. Enjoy. Ending fails, but meh.**

**Oh yeah, and this whole "story" is many random ideas of Bats. If you have any silly flomps, send 'em my way. I shall maybe make something of them.**

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_**Dick gets mighty confused about some stuff. As does O'Hara, but for very different reasons.**_

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**The Cigarette Pack**

It started out innocently enough. A sudden notice of small inconsistencies. Commissioner Gordon had been a smoker for years, and always had a package of cigarettes on him. It was a known and accepted fact. Robin had never thought much about it whenever he and Batman were in his office or standing next to him. But when Dick and Bruce were invited over to the commissioner's house for dinner one day, Dick realized something.

Where was the smell? The house didn't have even the faintest lingering smell of cigarette smoke. And thinking back, Dick realized the office didn't either, nor Gordon. And they never had. But how could a man smoke and not smell?

He brought it up to Bruce when they left, wondering. Bruce simply said it wasn't their business. Which was true. What the commissioner did or didn't do with his lungs was his choice. So for a while, Dick forgot.

And then Joker tried to blackmail him and Robin was forced to take the commissioner and his family to a safe house for a few days while Batman hunted down the insane criminal. It was a trying and stressful time, most of all for Gordon. Yet not once did Robin see him reach for a smoke. And he realized that he had never actually seen the man with a cigarette in his hand. And again he began to wonder.

He tried to time it right. Waited until everyone had gone to bed. Made sure Bruce was Bruce and done with his nightly patrol. Double checked the guard rounds at the station.

It was nearly midnight when Robin swung down to the window of the commissioner's office. He pried open the frame quietly and slipped inside. Pausing for a moment to make sure no one had heard him, he hurried over to Gordon's desk. The man always had an extra pack in the top drawer, something Robin had noticed long ago.

The pack was sitting right at the front. It was old and slightly worn, but in good condition. Robin picked it up carefully. It rattled, as if it were filled with beans or something besides cigarettes. He opened the top slowly, almost afraid of what he might find.

"Hey!"

The guard's shout startled the colourful hero and he jumped, the box's contents flying into the air and raining down on him. The guard – Chief O'Hara, actually – paused in surprise at the odd shower. His surprise grew when he took in the familiar black and yellow cape, red shirt, and dark green leggings.

"Robin? What on earth are you doin' here, sneakin' around the commissioner's office?!"

"M&amp;M's," Robin murmured quietly. O'Hara frowned in confusion. "It was M&amp;M's. Always M&amp;M's."

The officer followed the boy's gaze to the floor, now littered with candy. "Boy Wonder, are you alright?"

Robin raised his stare. "M&amp;M's…" He stood silently for a few more moments before suddenly disappearing out the window.

"Oi!" O'Hara raced after him, staring out at the sleepy city for any sign of the teen vigilante. Fruitless, he turned back to the office and the candy still scattered across the floor and the desk. He shook his head. "I knew such a young boy shouldn't be out solvin' crimes. Poor kid's snapped."


	3. Creepy Kids

_**-I wrote this like two days ago and uploaded it on my account but didn't post it fer some reason, but just remembered and figured I should do it now.**_

_**Also, seriously, this was pain, it wasn't writing, it was like pulling the words out with a dead hammer. Gah. Second piece (bunny courtesy of Phantom because I was dead) is underway and soooooo much better.-**_

**Okay so apparently I can't write. Want to, but can't. WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME? So here, have a shitty piece. There was a lot of "Creepy Shit Kids Say" things on tumblr the other night, I thought I'd give Bruce one of those moments with Dick.**

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**Creepy Kids**

The funeral had been for the uncle of one of Bruce's friends. A good man, if a little strange. A lot strange, really. Bruce had only met him once, but it had made quite an impression. Uncle Greggor, as his family called him, was anti-social hermit that lived on his own spot of land and enjoyed butchering his own food with an ax that he always had strapped to his belt. He stared disturbingly at everything and didn't own a single blood-stained free item of clothing, but he would make cookies for visiting family in a heartbeat and talk animatedly in any conversation.

After the service, Bruce invited his friend and parents to his mansion for tea and catching up. They took to Dick immediately, and the next two hours were filled with laughter and stories.

When it came time for them to head back home, Bruce and Dick stood at the door and waved them on their way.

"Well, that was nice," Bruce said with a smile. He hadn't talked to his friend in ages and it had been nice to catch up.

"Yeah, but the bloody guy with the ax was kinda creepy. I hope he makes it out of their trunk okay," Dick mused rather matter-of-factly before bouncing off to pester Alfred about supper.

It took Bruce several moments to process that. It took a few more before he darted back inside for the phone.

Children could be terrifying sometimes.


	4. The Scared Little Puppy

_**TRIGGER WARNINGS: MENTION OF SUICIDE; DESCRIPTIONS OF ABUSE Please don't read if you're sensitive to these things, I don't want any of you having panic attacks because of me. I just needed to vent about personal things tonight, and it came out in the form of a Bat Blurb. Just skip to the next one. I never planned on any of them being sad or angsty, but this one is an exception, and likely to be the only exception. Safe reading continues next chapter.**_

**They compared themselves to a scared little puppy tonight. So that's how the dog thing comes in. Yes, I'm venting from real life things, but no, those real life things don't include a suicide. Thankfully.**

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**The Scared Little Puppy**

"I don't get it. Why didn't she just leave? Why would she choose to stay with them when they hurt her?"

Bruce looked down at his young foster son. Dick was staring up at the picture of the recently deceased Annie Rothman, sad, confused, and just a little scared. 20 year old Annie had been his tutor for just a few weeks, but the two had taken a quick liking to each other. Now she was gone. Swallowed too many pills trying to numb the pain of her family's apparent hatred of her.

Dick turned to look at Bruce and asked again. "Why didn't she just leave?"

"It's not that easy, Dick," Bruce said quietly. He didn't know how he was supposed to explain the complexities of verbal and emotional abuse to an eleven year old who had never had reason to feel betrayed by those he trusted. Physical abuse, that was easier to explain, easy to see and prove. Kids were always taught about bad touches and that hitting was wrong. But bullying and neglecting to the point of death…that abuse was sneakier.

Dick was still watching him, waiting for him to make sense of everything. Bruce sighed and took Dick's hand, leading him outside. Most of the others who had attended the memorial had already left, except a few friends and family members. Annie's mother was down near the street, and Bruce couldn't help but note she actually had the gall to cry. Why couldn't she have cared this much when her daughter was alive?

Bruce headed towards a small bench on the side of the building and sat down, pulling Dick onto his lap. He stared down the road for a moment, thinking.

"Do you remember Bernie?"

"The old beagle Mr. Withers had?"

"Yes. When Mr. Withers moved into town, he had been kicking Bernie for years, remember? Taking his anger out on him whenever something made him mad." Dick nodded quietly. "But even though he never kept Bernie on a leash, he never ran away."

"Not until I took him," Dick said, and Bruce chuckled, remembering the rather frazzled look on Alfred's face when he returned home that night, and the pleading look on Dick's as he clung to the old, muddy hound.

"Right. You know why Bernie never left, though?"

Dick scrunched up his face in thought for a moment. "I guess…he didn't really know any better."

"That's right. Withers got him when he was a puppy. It was the only home he'd ever known. And I'm sure Withers wasn't always so mean to him. If I remember correctly, he didn't start losing his temper until he started drinking. But before then, Bernie was happy, and loved. You see, Dick, people don't go all bad all at once. It starts slow and builds up.

"By the time you rescued Bernie, he was used to being beat. He knew what was coming to him, and knew he could just run away. But at the same time, he couldn't. Everything he had ever had since he was a puppy was with that man. And he still loved him, because Withers was all he knew, and he had been kind, once. He was someone Bernie was supposed to be able to trust. He was scared, and betrayed, and wasn't sure if leaving would really make things better or worse. His body was old, but inside he was still a little puppy who didn't understand why his owner hated him, and wondered if maybe he deserved it."

Bruce looked down at Dick, who was leaning against Bruce's chest and staring quietly at the ground.

"Annie may not have been hit, but being verbally abused and neglected can be just as damaging. Especially from someone you love and trust. She might've been technically able to just leave, pack up her things and find a shelter, but on the inside she was still a scared little girl. She knew she could leave, but she also didn't really know how. And a part of her didn't want to leave her family. A part of her still loved them. Maybe not much, and she probably denied it, said she hated them. But they were still family. The people who were supposed to love her, and care for her. But for some reason…they didn't. And that's something you can ever really understand and accept."

Dick was silent for several moments, and Bruce wondered if the boy had fully grasped what he'd said. He finally spoke.

"I think I get it." He sat up to look at Bruce. "I don't think I could just run away either. Not for very long. You and Alfred are really nice, it'd be confusing if you suddenly weren't. You'd have to have a reason for it, anyway. Something I did. At least…I would think so. And Annie thought so too. Right?"

Bruce nodded. "Right. So you see? It's never as easy as just leaving."

"Yeah…" Dick stared down at the ground again, then to the clear, blue sky above them. "I hope she's not scared anymore."

Bruce followed his gaze, a sad smile tugging at his lips.

"Me too."


	5. Baskin Robin

**I HAVE RETURNED! This is an idea stolen from, um, that person who's name I forget, but you know who you are. I got it MONTHS ago, but only just now actually wrote it (I'd started a couple times, ended up deleting). Funnily enough, the other day I was reading Batfics, and stumbled across one with the same idea. Kinda reminded me I needed to get this done.**

**Here ya go, TemporarilyNamelessOneWhoICouldProbablyFindTheNameOfRatherEasilyButI'mTooLazyToGoLook. Hope ya enjoy.**

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Baskin Robin

"A double scoop Reese's Peanut Butter Cup waffle cone, please." Batman's voice was stern and serious, as though he were questioning a suspect and not ordering ice cream. A small hand tugged at his cape, and he added, "And an Old Fashioned Butter Pecan."

The Baskin Robbins clerk nodded quietly, still slightly in shock at having the dynamic duo standing in the store. They rang up the price and Batman paid as another worker handed the ice cream over the counter to Robin.

"Thanks!"

The workers smiled awkwardly at the cheerful boy and intimidating man as they left. Robin handed Batman the Butter Pecan when they got to the street, giving his own cone a happy lick.

"Are you sure you don't want one, Batman?"

"I'm positive."

"Mm. Well, I hope Alfred likes his."

"So you're not going to tell him what happened, right?"

Robin pondered over his treat for a moment. Batman frowned.

"You promised. Ice cream in return for your silence."

The Boy Wonder snickered. "I won't tell."

"Good."

"Just don't ever try to kill me again."

"I wasn't trying to kill you."

"That's debatable."

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**And if the front page of the morning newspaper shows a picture of them at the counter, well, that's just part of crime fighting.**


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